


Fired

by stetsonblack



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, pyrokinesis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:59:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stetsonblack/pseuds/stetsonblack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike develops the ability to start fires with his mind. Too bad he can't put them out the same way. Written for a prompt on the suitsmeme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Toaster

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt by phreakycat, who is awesome: (short version) Mike spontaneously develops the ability to start fires with his brain. He can't control it well, and causes a series of humorous incidents at work. Harvey figures out what's going on and goes to confront Mike. Mike accidentally sets his apt on fire and is trapped. Harvey saves the day and rescues the injured Mike, eventually helping him get his ability under control. Happy ending (gen or slash is fine). [Long version: http://suits-meme.livejournal.com/3959.html?thread=2804855#t2804855]

Mike was exactly seven minutes late on the morning of what he would come to acknowledge as the Day from Hell.

Harvey stood silently fuming on the street, waiting for Mike so they could take a cab to the court house. Mike hastily shoved his bike on the rack and barely managed to properly lock it before sprinting to meet his boss.

"You're late," Harvey growled at him and hailed a cab.

As they were sliding onto the seat of the cab, Mike turned to give Harvey a breathless reply. "Sorry, I was—"

"Really don't care," Harvey said grouchily, staring pointedly at his watch, as if his foul mood wasn't an obvious enough reminder that Mike had offended him.

"I wasn't aware that my toaster spontaneously combusting was the new equivalent of 'the dog ate my homework'," Mike sniped, just a little upset that Harvey had ignored his entirely (for once) legitimate excuse.

Harvey turned to glance at Mike and focused on his tie with a glare. "Well that explains today's tie fiasco."

Mike followed Harvey's gaze to find that his tie was partially charred and was leaving black smudge marks on his shirt. He hastily removed the disastrous piece of fabric and rubbed at his stained shirt with his fingers in an attempt to return it to its former whiteness.

Harvey rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "If you don't get that off, you're waiting outside."

"What! Harvey, that's not fair!"

"Well in the future, don't stick forks in your toaster to try to get the bread out."

Mike pouted. He wasn't an idiot. What did Harvey take him for? "I'm surprised you know how a toaster works," he said sarcastically.

"That makes one of us," Harvey replied smoothly.

Mike gave a glare of defeat and then returned to furiously rubbing at the slowly erasing smudge of ash on his shirt. It really hadn't been his fault! He'd simply put a slice of toast in, like so many mornings, and gone to get dressed, when suddenly the thing went up in a huge flame. It had taken him nearly three minutes to locate his fire extinguisher and another ten seconds of frantically trying to get it to work.

The fire had gone out fairly quickly, but apparently Mike's tie had been too close. He hadn't even noticed, but he must have put it out in his haste to stamp out any stray flames.

His toaster, which wasn't that old and was fairly nice, since Jenny had purchased it for him when he'd moved in, was now a melted and scorched puddle of metal. Now he'd have to go buy a new one, which he neither had time nor money for. And now because of his stupid toaster he wouldn't be able to go into court with Harvey and win the case he'd spent the last week searching through hundreds of dusty boxes for.

It was making him oddly angry just thinking about how unfair this all was. He felt strange, almost dizzy with his irritation and oddly uncomfortably warm, but just as he was starting to turn his anger on Harvey, the cab stopped in front of the court house and Harvey was ushering him out.

Harvey took one look at him, gave a silent chuckle, and said, "You coming?"

"Really? Even without my tie?" Mike asked, anger evaporating as it was replaced by excitement.

Harvey began marching into the building, his usual confident swagger making him seem invincible. He called back to Mike, who was following on his heels, " _Because_ you're without your tie. It looked like you got it from a thrift store."

Mike defended, "They were on sale!"

"I changed my mind," Harvey said disgustedly, even as he held the door open for Mike to follow.

Mike inhaled the banter and adopted his own quiet confidence that they'd take a stunning victory in court. Not even a little fire would stop him today.


	2. Louis

 

Mike sank even lower on his desk as he heard the familiar gait indicating Louis’s nearing presence.

 

He had about four more hours of work for Harvey before he could even consider doing anything for Louis, and he was starting to develop a migraine.

 

This new headache had hit him in the middle of his and Harvey’s courtroom victory, which was, as usual, stunning and elegant. But Mike didn’t have any pills on him that might lessen the sharp stabs poking at his brain, and he didn’t want to take anything on an empty stomach. After all, he hadn’t eaten anything that morning on account of his toaster setting on fire.

 

So now he was forced to power through his work, which was steadily piling up, and without the distraction of his music. The noise only increased the pressure in his skull.

 

Mike hoped that if he couldn’t see Louis, then Louis couldn’t see him.

 

It didn’t work.

 

“Mike, have these done by noon,” Louis said cheerily and heaved a large stack of briefs on Mike’s already overflowing desk.

 

“No, Louis, I can’t. I’m working on three things for—”

 

“Does it look like I care about Harvey?” Louis interrupted, giving Mike a vicious sneer. Mike heard faint chuckles and snickers coming from the surrounding cubicles.

 

“But—”

 

“Ah!” Louis cut him off. “No. You work for this firm, Mike. And these are for Jessica herself. You’ve gotta prioritize Mike.” His words sounded so condescending that Mike had to actually force back the urge to get himself fired for assault and battery. Instead he gritted his teeth and glared at Louis, rubbing his temple when his actions sent fresh waves of pain to his head.

 

“Fine, whatever. I’ll have it done.”

 

“Good, ‘cause I need it thirty minutes ago,” Louis said, a victorious smile on his face.

 

Mike was too busy wincing in pain at his growing headache to notice. He only looked up when he heard Louis walking away.

 

Mike delivered a brutal stare at the back of Louis’s head, feeling his anger rise in him, swollen by the pain throbbing through his every thought. The room started to spin and he felt uncomfortably warm, as his focus narrowed to the point where Louis’s shirt met his neck.

 

And suddenly, Mike was shaken from his silent fury by girlish screams erupting from Louis, who was now frantically swiping at the back of his neck. A nearby associate was trying to swat at the low, flickering orange flames that were growing out of Louis’s collar.

 

Finally, a paralegal swung by and threw a large mug of water on the man, and the entire bullpen went silent, waiting for Louis’s reaction.

 

He glared at everyone, but said not a word before hastily marching back into his office, a look of slight embarrassment on his face. Once he was out of earshot, the associates gave a soft roll of laughter at what had just happened.

 

Mike was curious as to who would dare to throw a lit match onto Louis, but whoever they had been, he owed them a serious favor. He noticed with relief and a small amount of glee that his migraine was dulled, and attributed it to the second fire incident. Perhaps karma did exist, and this was the world’s way of apologizing for his toaster’s suicidal self-immolation.

 

Whatever the explanation, Mike decided he didn’t care, and returned to his now excessively larger pile of work with a grin.

 

Harvey would be so upset he’d missed this.


	3. Kyle's Briefs

Mike drained the last of his cup of cold coffee, forcing it down despite its bitterness. He’d been meaning to finish it off earlier, but he hadn’t had the time to even think of ingesting anything. Louis’s work was weighing on him and he hadn’t even finished those things for Harvey yet.

Currently, he was leaning tiredly against the copy machine, its loud printing noises threatening to bring back his migraine from earlier. He had only one more thing to do for Harvey before he could hand in his work and begin on Louis’s. He anticipated he’d be here at least until late evening, unless Louis decided to pile something else on him.

This is exactly why Mike had decided to move to the copy room and hide amongst its many shelves, ignoring the weird stares from random paralegals and secretaries. It was mostly quiet in the room, and he doubted Louis would find him when he was hiding behind the large machine, folders spread out on his lap.

The current stack finished printing, and Mike wearily hefted the papers in his arms. He’d just need to go over them one final time before he could hand them in to Harvey. He was fairly certain there weren’t any typos or errors in the print, but he didn’t trust technology enough to leave it to chance—especially if they were for Harvey’s multi-million dollar client.

Mike heaved the stack into his arms and turned to step around the machine, when he was shoved rudely forward by a hand in his back.

The freshly printed pages went flying about the room, scattered in entirety. It would probably take Mike just another hour to sort through them and get them back in the proper page order before he could begin to proofread.

He picked himself up from where he’d fallen—wincing as his head pounded from where it had smacked into the corner of the copy machine—and looked to see who had caused him to stumble, but there was no one there.

Grumbling, Mike bent down to collect the loose papers and get to work. He was certain he wasn’t getting out of here until well past closing, now. And Harvey was going to be mad that the contracts weren’t already on his desk.

…

If Mike had been hoping for karma to intervene, he was disappointed.

Nothing good had sprung itself upon him, and instead, he’d found a total of three errors in the contract, causing him to spend more time to fix them, reprint the contract, and proofread it once more.

Now he was about two hours behind schedule, and he still hadn’t delivered them to Harvey or gotten started on Louis’s work.

He hefted the fresh, correct contract and dragged himself down the hall to his cubicle. When he got there, he picked up the other stacks and steadied them as he headed for Harvey’s office.

But as he passed Kyle’s cubicle, he overheard the man (and several others) snickering. Mike realized belatedly that Kyle must have been the one in the copy room. Only he was petty enough to do something like that.

“What’s so funny?” he asked angrily, leaning over Kyle’s cubicle wall.

The man gave him an innocent smile. “Just picturing what your face will look like when you finally get fired,” he said smugly. Mike glared at him. “Weren’t you supposed to give those contracts to Harvey three hours ago?”

“Didn’t you read the policy on harassment that said you could get fired for pushing people in the back?”

Kyle’s smug look didn’t falter. “Why would I need to push you, Ross? You seem to be failing well enough without my help.”

A few of the nearby associates let out a little laugh and Mike glared heatedly at the man. He noticed that Kyle’s desk wasn’t nearly as full as his own, not nearly enough paperwork on it. Though he did recognize the Jacobsen briefs which Louis was making a big fuss about earlier.

Mike stared in anger and jealousy at the files, wishing that Kyle would just leave him alone or that he’d get his just desserts. He started to feel a wave of heat hit him, making him boil with rage.

A whoosh sounded and Kyle’s files went up in flames. They were bright blue for a second before settling to a steady red, and Kyle shrieked in surprise and fear, scooting back from his desk in a rush.

“Fire! Fire!!!” Kyle shouted, and the other associates all stood frantically searching for the flames.

Mike’s hot rage evaporated and he began to feel lightheaded. Looking at the flickering, smoking papers being destroyed on Kyle’s desk, he began to feel afraid. He took a hasty step back and then fled the scene.

Had he done that? No, that was impossible.

He gave himself a shake and realized that he still had to drop off Harvey’s contracts or he’d probably be fired…

 _Stop thinking about_ fire _!!!!_ he yelled frantically in his head. He needed to tell Harvey about this, needed to be reassured that he was thinking crazy thoughts if he was seriously considering that he had suddenly developed a super power.

Taking a deep breath, he headed for Harvey’s office, files clutched tightly in his hands as he tried not to think about the bright blue flames and Kyle’s frightened face.


	4. Harvey's Tie

Mike nervously stepped into Harvey's office, ignoring the evil glare of doom he received from Donna, and dumped the large stack of contracts haphazardly on Harvey's desk. His arms sagged in relief, but his mind raced nervously as he tried to determine how best to inform Harvey that he believed he'd developed the ability to telepathically start fires.

Harvey snatched his hands back quickly from where Mike's contracts landed with a solid thud, and gave Mike a look that would have normally had him fearing for his life. As it was, however, Mike was currently too busy pacing frantically across Harvey's office to notice.

"Mike—" Harvey began.

Mike hastily interrupted him. "I didn't mean to, Harvey, I promise." He stopped suddenly to worriedly gaze at his boss. On his hurried walk to the office, Mike had decided that he had somehow been responsible for the three fires of the day, though he was still confused about the toaster incident. The other two had obviously been triggered by anger, but his toaster was innocent of any crimes except the occasional burnt crust.

Harvey heaved a deep breath before glancing at Donna, as if to tell her to get ready in case he had to do something drastic. Then he said in a very serious tone, "What did you do?"

Mike realized he'd probably given Harvey the wrong impression. It's not like he'd gone and smoked pot or taken up a career selling trade secrets or anything. So it was with a little heat that he defended, "Nothing! I didn't even notice I'd done anything until he was on fire, and even then I wasn't sure it had been me!"

There was a long moment of mutual silence, as Mike waited for Harvey's reaction, and Harvey seemed to be struggling with something internally.

Then, Harvey burst into a deep steady chuckle. "You can't play pranks like that at the office, Mike. You could get caught, and if Louis decided to fire you for something like that, there's not much I could do. Though believe me, I would personally defend you. Good work, kid."

Mike noticed that his jaw was hanging open and that Harvey had turned back to his work. He threw up his hands in exasperation, approaching Harvey's desk so he could peer over the towering contracts he'd put there and look Harvey in the eyes. "Harvey, I'm serious! I could have been fired?" There was that awful word again.

Harvey chuckled once more. "Don't worry, I'm sure Louis will survive. Besides, considering that even Donna didn't know it was you, I doubt the evidence isn't in your favor." And Harvey began the arduous task of removing his own file from beneath the heavy weight of the stack on his desk.

Mike panicked. He had to make Harvey understand. So he slammed his hand down on Harvey's file, forcing the man to look at him in surprise. "It wasn't just Louis, Harvey."

"You didn't destroy another defenseless toaster, did you?"

" 'Defenseless'?" Mike asked incredulously, a little offended that Harvey was making light of this whole thing.

" _I heard it was Kyle's briefs,_ " offered Donna from the intercom.

Another silence stretched between them, as Mike looked nervously at both Donna and Harvey.

Apparently, Harvey misinterpreted this information, if the disgusted look on his face was anything to go by, and Mike turned a beet red.

"Not those kinds of briefs—"

"Alright, I think I've indulged your childish behavior long enough. Back to work, rookie. And if you ever cause the state of Kyle's briefs to be mentioned to me ever again…" he left off, letting the threat take hold.

Mike tried frantically to explain once more. He could feel his irritation rising, growing within the pit of his stomach. His headache was coming back, flaring pain in his skull. "But I'm trying to tell you—"

"I'm sorry, did you forget the part about me not caring?" Harvey said to the air as he focused on the file in his hands.

Mike didn't mean to do it, honestly. He tried to keep his anger at bay, but with each interruption he'd felt himself losing control. And each time he'd tried to force down his anger, his headache had increased. There was a moment when he felt like he was burning up with a terrible fever, and then the sudden relief of coolness washed over him. Then he tuned back into the world to notice that Harvey's tie had begun to smolder.

The man hadn't seemed to notice yet, but there was smoke drifting up around him. Mike stood there, feeling light-headed. He hesitantly called Harvey's name when Donna suddenly rushed past him and threw a fire blanket against their boss. Of course Donna would be prepared.

But now Mike felt guilty and afraid. He hadn't been able to control his ability and he had almost set his boss on fire. Actually, he _had_ set one of them on fire already, and now he was sure he'd be…sacked. He tried desperately to avoid further consideration of the very word 'fire'.

Determined to never show his face here again until he'd mastered this horrible ability, he fled the building.


	5. Mike's Apartment

Mike rolled to the other side of his bed once more in the hopes that he'd fall asleep. He thought that if he could just get some rest, then he'd be able to control his fire starting powers when he woke up. Or maybe this whole thing was just a nightmare and he'd wake up if only he could get back to sleep. He ignored the obvious flaws in that logic.

After what felt like hours but was actually only a few minutes, Mike gave up on sleeping his problems away and rolled off the bed.

He needed something to distract him from thinking about fire. Maybe a nice cup of tea would help?

So he headed into his kitchen and turned on his electric kettle, glad he didn't use the old-fashioned stovetop kind, when he spotted the charred remains of his toaster. It filled him with a deep sense of dread as he felt what he now recognized was the headiness and warmth that flooded his brain and precipitated a blaze.

He shook his head, tried to calm his rapid heartbeat, but he ultimately failed as the toaster caught fire once more. Mike frantically beat at it with his kitchen towel, but managed only to fan the flames. They caught on his cupboard that was coated with ancient lead-lined paint and made of what was probably the driest and oldest wood in the city.

He backed away hastily, feeling panic rise within him, and searched for his fire extinguisher which had proven so useful that morning.

With a second or two to steady his hands on the nozzle and the canister, he aimed it at the burning mess of fuel in his kitchen. He screamed and dropped the thing when it too lit up, and he turned to head for the safety of anywhere but his burning kitchen.

His eyes unintentionally caught his couch and the thing went up in a puff of smoke.

Mike screamed in anguish and frustration. He should probably call the fire department for help right about now. If only he could find his phone.

The kitchen must really have developed into quite the furnace, because a thick and heavy layer of black smoke was filling the room, and Mike dropped to his knees, hoping he'd left his phone somewhere close by. But it was hard to see with the air so polluted, and he ended up mostly fumbling blindly as his eyes watered and his lungs burned.

He heard it ringing faintly and realized it must be in the bedroom. He could hear the lick and roar of the growing flames behind him, and as he passed his coat rack, it became a fireball and collapsed on top of him.

He scrambled to escape the flaming death trap, pushing the wrought iron monstrosity off of himself with a yell, flinching as he wrapped his hand around the iron pole and lifted it up. He patted the stray flame off his pants in a hurry and swallowed down the fear and horror at the burns he had on his hand.

He realized that his phone was probably a moot point right about now, and that his main priority should be to get out as fast as possible, but he couldn't see anything, could barely hear anything with the sound of the growing fire in his ears, and the smoke was pouring into his mouth and nostrils, making breathing rather difficult. Tears unwillingly leaked from his eyes as he strained to see through the dense air. He tugged his shirt up so it made a make-shift mask, but it wasn't made for anything except being worn under a suit, and it kept slipping.

Mike decided that just sitting there uselessly on the floor was a good way to die, so he began crawling. He didn't know where he was crawling too, but he hoped he'd eventually find the door before he set anything else on fire.

There was a distant noise that Mike had trouble distinguishing, but he thought it sounded like knocking, and he wondered if maybe there was also a voice.

He found the corner of his apartment and guessed that he was unfortunately on the side opposite the door, when he burst into a painful coughing fit from the smoke.

Panic hit him then, and he realized he was going to die; he was going to burn to death from a fire he'd caused telepathically, all because he'd tried to make some tea. And worse, he was going to die alone. Now, he decided, was the perfect time to cry.

There was a sudden sharp noise, and Mike distantly wondered if the ceiling was collapsing or something, because he thought he heard the splintering of wood. Maybe it was just his cabinets giving one last hurrah.

It wasn't until he heard his name being called that he realized he wasn't alone anymore.

Through the smoke he thought he saw a person. It looked like they were wearing a suit, but he wasn't sure. His eyes were itching and he could barely keep them open for long anymore. There were rough hands on his shoulders, though, and he looked up into a face that looked like Harvey's. But it couldn't have been. Why would Harvey be in his apartment, especially when it was on fire?

"—ke."

He blinked at the not-Harvey.

"Mike," the voice repeated, and Mike felt himself being lifted as he started to cough up his lungs once more.

It felt like he was being dragged through a vacuum. He tried dimly to move, but his arms felt like dead weights, and what little movement he could achieve was oddly restricted, like he was being restrained.

He inhaled ash and coughed it back up, searching for the ever-diminishing oxygen. It felt like he was being drowned.

And then suddenly, he was in the clear. The air still smelled of burning and ash and terror, but it wasn't so thick anymore.

He wanted so badly to taste the fresh atmosphere, but when he sucked it into his lungs, it wouldn't fit. He couldn't breathe. He flailed his limbs in abject terror and gasped in the last-ditch effort to expand his lungs, but it was no use.

He thought he could hear a voice call his name as everything fell from his consciousness. It sounded faintly like Harvey's.


	6. Fire Escape

Harvey stabbed the end button on his cell in a fit of irritation. He'd just spent an enormous amount of money on a cab to get to Mike's crappy apartment, and waded through the dingy halls, up creaky stairs, past piles of rotting garbage bags, and a door that reeked of weed, to stand before Mike's door.

And now Mike wasn't answering his phone.

Harvey had already tried knocking, but there was no answer, and when he leaned his ear against the door, all he heard was an odd rumbling noise. Maybe Mike had turned the TV on and couldn't hear his phone. Maybe it was nothing. But it meant that Harvey was ignored, and Harvey Specter was _not_ to be ignored, unintentionally or no.

"Mike!" he called, banging on the door once more. "Mike! Open the door!"

He thought he heard a dull thud beyond, accompanied by a muted yelp, but after a few more seconds of waiting it was clear that Mike wasn't coming to let him in.

Harvey repeated his previous attempts to get Mike's attention, but to no avail, and now he could smell something faintly smoky in the air. He looked down at the broken sealing on the bottom of the door and saw thick black smoke curling through, disappearing into the crappy hallway.

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of Harvey's stomach as he realized what must have happened.

He knew the kid had been trying to tell him, as ridiculous as it was, that he could suddenly start fires, but Harvey hadn't been willing to listen. To be fair, it's not like he would have believed the man anyway. Apparently his very expensive tie was a sacrifice that had to be made. Harvey had taken one good look at Mike's face before the man ran off, and then he'd taken a good look at Donna's face and took off after him.

The assistant was uncharacteristically concerned for Mike's well-being, and if that tendril of smoke that was now steadily creeping through Mike's door was anything to go by, it was with good cause.

Harvey gave the door knob a good twist, but the thing was locked not to mention searing hot. And judging by the state of Mike's building, he would be surprised if Mike had less than three locks on his door. That left him one option.

Harvey took a step back and kicked at the door knob with his extremely expensive Italian shoes, trying to remind himself that Mike's life was more important than his favorite pair of footwear.

After a few more kicks the door flew off its hinges, splintering where he'd ripped it from the door frame. He forgot all about his clothes as he was confronted by a room so heavy with smoke and flames that he could barely see. He called Mike's name, trying to maintain his focus and hastily find his associate.

He heard a stream of terrible coughs coming from the far corner. Of course Mike would be all the way across the room. At least he was smart enough to have stayed low.

Harvey crouched down and took out the handkerchief he carried with this suit, placing it over his mouth to prevent inhaling tons of smoke. He crawled quickly over to Mike, who was blinking bloodshot eyes curiously up at him.

His associate looked absolutely terrible. He was covered in ash and sweat and tears, and there were scorch marks on his left leg. The bruise on his head from earlier (which Harvey had noticed but not commented on) was looking especially nasty, and Mike was clearly having trouble breathing and staying conscious.

"Mike," Harvey said for the second time (he could tell Mike was on the edge of passing out), resting a hand on the man when he'd gotten close enough. Mike's eyes rolled up to look at him, blinking back tears and squinting at the sight of Harvey.

He gave his associate a tug, but he realized that Mike was out of power; he wasn't going anywhere on his own. Harvey frantically took a look at the apartment, or what he could see of it through the haze.

Mike's kitchen was a bright flash off to the right, and the couch was burning steadily. Something on the floor that looked like it was attached to a pole was also on fire, and Harvey wondered if maybe that explained the crash and yell he'd heard before and why Mike's pants looked burned.

The apartment was gone. There was no way he could stop the blaze, but he _could_ save Mike. He scooped up the thin frame of a man in his arms, feeling glad that his adrenaline was pumping liquid strength into his veins, and he hurriedly made his way out of the room.

Mike gave a weak struggle in his arms, but Harvey held fast, not willing to let him go until they were in the clear.

When he got to the front door he found it to be a jagged mess of wood that was now being kissed by the nearby flames from the sofa, and Harvey was on the wrong side of it.

He looked around for a different path, but there was no way he'd make it by backtracking; the flames had followed him out and there was no way to go but forward. Trying to hold his breath as he inhaled the ash hanging in the air, he steeled himself and leaped through the flames, shoving out the door and emerging through the smoke to end up in the hallway.

But all he found that he cared about was Mike. He didn't even think about the state of his favorite suit, or that he'd probably destroyed his lungs and risked being burned for someone else. He only held tighter to the limp body in his arms until he realized that it wasn't breathing.

Harvey dropped Mike to the floor, kneeling above him. The associate flailed his limbs in a panic, and Harvey knew that Mike couldn't breathe, that he was suffocating. He didn't think he'd ever be able to erase the memory of the sounds Mike was making as he gasped desperately for the somewhat smoke-free air.

He whipped out his phone and dialed 911, shouting the words fire, ambulance, and the address of Mike's building before setting the phone down. He could faintly hear the operator trying to talk to him from the tinny speaker of the device as he leaned over Mike, shaking with anxiety at what he was about to do.

 _C'mon, kid. Don't give up on me,_ he thought as he looked at Mike, took a deep breathe, and forced air into the man's lungs.

…

Mike woke with a start as he burst from the flames that were chasing him. He felt dizzy and confused, and he could feel the sweat pouring off of him in waves. He winced at the feeling, anticipating another fire to crop up, but there was nothing.

That's when he noticed that he was snugly being held against something just as warm as himself, but it was soft and plush. He realized dazedly that it was pulsing too, and he blinked his itching eyes open to find himself surrounded by black-sleeved arms, and a leg on each side of his own.

Mike stared curiously at the arms, and wondered who they belonged to. He tilted his head back slowly, feeling utterly exhausted as he took in a short, sharp breath, and saw a Harvey-like creature peering down at him.

"Thank God," he thought he heard the not-Harvey say. It sounded far away, like they were underwater.

He panicked for a minute as he began to worry about setting this figure on fire, but the arms tightened comfortingly around him, and a soothing voice calmed him, willed him to quiet.

Mike sagged tiredly, wondering where they were. It looked like the hallway of his building, but there was less smoke than he vaguely recalled there being. He heard a loud bang and found he was too tired to even startle at the noise. The arms around his waist held fast, and he heard the not-Harvey's voice again.

"Took their damn time getting here," the voice rasped. When Mike let out a series of scratchy coughs and futilely struggled against the hold, the voice added, "It's okay, kid. It's just the fire department. Everything's going to be alright, okay? Take it easy. Shhh. That's it."

Mike relaxed wearily into the source of the voice, following its instructions to rest. He was sure he saw the familiar yellow uniform of the iconic firemen before his vision was replaced with darkness.


	7. Birthday Candles

The entire associates' area was filled with unhappy, overworked, and hungry employees. Mike was probably the most rested of them all, for once.

He'd just finished moving into his new apartment (which Harvey had inspected for fireproofing reasons, or so he claimed).

The days immediately after That Fire—as Mike called it—were difficult for everyone. Mike had been forced to stay in the hospital for several days due to smoke damage to his lungs and a few third degree burns. Harvey hadn't been seriously injured, but he'd been on an inhaler for a week or so. Mike still had trouble breathing and was forced to take alternate transportation since his bike was too strenuous for his healing lungs.

Some of the associates and paralegals came to visit him in the hospital, but aside from that, Mike hadn't been busy at all. Harvey had tried to sneak him some briefs to proof, but the nurses had caught him.

The vast amount of resting he'd been doing was starting to get to him, though, and he had been practically begging Harvey to let him work on something. So Harvey decided they'd start with Mike learning to control his new ability.

It took a little practice, but they figured out that he could control it fairly well so long as he was focused. It was still difficult not to think of fire and panic as smoke started to pour off whatever poor defenseless object (inanimate or not) he'd been looking at, but he now felt safe enough to be around others without a fire extinguisher handy. It didn't stop Donna from giving him a giant one and a packet of fire blankets, though.

So Mike had returned to work, found a new apartment, somehow avoided paying exorbitant amounts of money for fire insurance and damages, and dodged an investigation by the police and fire departments that may have potentially led to arson charges. He suspected Harvey had something to do with the way things played out, but was just so grateful he didn't even care. That and the man had saved his life; Harvey could do whatever he wanted as far as Mike was concerned.

He'd been given a light load of work, for once, and didn't even have things waiting on his desk for him besides the cards some of his colleagues left him. Mike was having a great afternoon, actually, having gotten plenty of sleep and finally having something to do. But he'd been interrupted from proofing the Kensington contracts so that everyone could "celebrate" Louis's birthday.

Someone—Mike had no idea who, though he suspected Harold—had dared to get Louis a cake, despite his proclaimed allergies to all things tasty. Louis walked out, gave a glaring smile to the associates and his fellow junior partners, and headed for the cake. The candles were already lit and they were now just waiting for him to blow them out. The associates had a betting pool going for how many he'd get on his first try, but Mike abstained from laying money down—he knew exactly what the answer would be.

He saw Harvey standing with Jessica off to the side and his boss gave him an eye roll. Mike knew just how Harvey felt.

They finished a rousing chorus of the most strained, monotonous, off-key rendition of "Happy Birthday" Mike had ever heard, and Louis bent over to blow out the candles. They all went out in one breath, and Mike heard a few snickers from Kyle, Greg, and a couple others who must have gotten lucky on their wagers.

Louis stood, cake knife poised over the corner of "Birthday" when the candles suddenly flared to life again.

The snickering stopped with a satisfyingly audible silence. Mike pointedly did not glance at Harvey, just continued to focus on the soft flames while he plastered a confused and innocent expression onto his face.

Louis lowered the knife and gave a huff of a laugh to the room. "Re-lighting candles. Very funny. Thanks, guys," he said, not sounding at all amused. He blew them out again, and even extinguished one with a pinch of his fingers, as if to ensure it wouldn't light up once more.

He sliced deftly into the spongy cake when the flames popped up once more. This time, Louis let out a stifled yelp and dropped the knife to the floor with a soft clatter.

A couple of the associates giggled until Louis glared at them.

Mike let a small smile show on his face as Rachel gave him a confused laugh. He risked a glance at Harvey, who was wearing the biggest smirk Mike had seen since before That Fire. Their eyes met for the briefest moment and Mike gave him a wink. Harvey let out a quiet chuckle, his eyes twinkling darkly.

"That's so mature of you, Harvey," Louis yelled at the man from across the room.

Harvey looked shocked. "It wasn't me."

Louis glared and Jessica turned a questioning eye at him. Mike tried not to fall over hysterically from the laughter lighting up his face. "Who else would it be? You think these idiots are brave enough to pull this off?"

Jessica glared at Louis, but before she could rake him across the coals, Harvey gave another of those quiet chuckles. "C'mon, Louis. You're assuming I care about you enough to buy you an actual cake."

Louis opened his mouth to reply when Jessica interrupted in a no more nonsense tone. "Louis, cut the cake so we can all eat and go back to work."

The man glared sullenly at the room and blew out the candles once more. Mike let his mind relax and washed the heat he'd been feeling off of him. He felt the heady relief that always came after he'd used his power and he allowed himself to gaze longingly at the fluffy cake Louis was now passing around.

As they all mingled, eating their slices of delicious baked goods, Harvey sauntered over to Mike.

"Nice job, rookie."

Mike smiled before schooling his expression into one of ignorance. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Harvey nodded. "Yeah, right. C'mon. Let's go steal the candles and set them up in his office before anyone notices."

Mike smiled and followed Harvey to Louis's office. Maybe this fire starting thing would work out after all…

-The End-

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably (hopefully) be a 5+1 story. I promise to try and contain this one, and yes, I am still working on the other stories. No really...


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